


putting the dog to sleep

by idioglossia



Category: Magisterium Series - Holly Black & Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Assisted Suicide, Don't copy to another site, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Song fic, Suicide, Tragedy, both mcs die in the end pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 22:26:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20217277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idioglossia/pseuds/idioglossia
Summary: It's been going on too long like this: Callum, Enemy of Death, and Aaron, the Saviour of the mages, are in a dance of life and death.Call and Aaron, in love, but doomed from the start.-Well, my trust in youIs like a dog with a broken leg,Tendons too torn to begFor you to let me back in.





	putting the dog to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. THIS FIC CONTAINS SERIOUS CONTENT, AND WHILE I WANT READERS, I WANT YOU TO BE SAFE MORE.
> 
> Not gonna lie to you, I wrote this largely through tears at 12am. I have no idea whether this is coherent or not. It's based off the song [putting the dog to sleep](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xg8Ckamh8Gw), by The Antlers. I shamelessly stole the title from them too.

When Callum came to him that day, Aaron knew it was over. He wasn’t sure if it was the walk- the determination in Call’s usually slow and pensive stride- or the grim sorrow in his eyes, a dark, stormy grey so unfamiliar when compared to the warmth he saw in them. In the end, he would never know. He just knew it was coming.  
  
But he was getting ahead of himself. Callum, graveyard, secret meeting, death omens.  
  
Aaron got there first, like usual. He leaned against the tombstone, his everyday image of decorum and honour gone. Today, he was Aaron, the half-grown adult stuck in the centre of a war against his best friend, his counterweight, his soulmate. It was crisp and cool, the fall breeze numbing his nose but not penetrating the warm black sweater he was wearing. Callum would be here soon, and he would be just Callum, the way Aaron was just Aaron. Two old friends, meeting across boundaries set so long ago that no one really cared why anymore. Two star-crossed lovers, meeting away from the prying eyes.  
  
When he spotted him, Call was closing the gate and strolling over. Something was wrong, Aaron could tell. He was- not the Callum that wore the Enemy’s mask, but not Aaron’s Call, who kissed him on the cheek in greeting and smiled as he insulted him.  
  
Callum was stone-faced when he walked up to him, and Aaron was instantly worried. Had they been discovered? Was Joseph trying to convince Call to resurrect Jericho again? He opened his mouth to ask, but Call beat him to it.  
  
“No more near misses.”  
  
Aaron’s heart dropped. This meant one of two things, and he didn’t like either of them.  
  
Call took a steadying breath. “When we meet next, you’re killing me. _Don’t_\- don’t try to talk me down from this. I’ve made up my mind this time, Aaron.”  
  
“Don’t try to talk you down?!” Aaron asked incredulously, tears welling his eyes at the thought. “Call, think of what you’re asking me to do. We’ll figure something else out. We always do.”  
  
Call shook his head, his eyes apologetic but voice firm. “Not this time. I can’t keep doing this, sweetheart. I can’t stand it- you and I both know that this is never going to work, that they’re never going to let us stop.”  
  
“I don’t _care_,” Aaron said fiercely, batting away the hand Call brought to his face. “I don’t _care_ if we have to meet like this all our lives. I don’t _care_ if I have to meet you on the battlefield until we’re both fucking dust, Call, because I’ll _still be_ with _you_.”  
  
He was fully aware that he was crying, blinking away tears, nose getting runny, voice shaky. Aaron could feel his emotions in his throat, his misery, his desperation, his love.  
  
“_Aaron_-”  
  
“I don’t want to die alone, remembered as some fucking- _hero_, some coward, who could never fix what really needed fixing, who killed the one man _he ever really loved_, Call!” He looked at the slightly frosty grass, examining their footprints even as his voice raised in volume. He couldn’t bear to look at him right now, the volatile feelings in his throat choking everything he really wanted to say. _I love you. I hate you. Please._  
  
“_Aaron_. Look at me.” Call’s warm hands were on either side of his face, gently guiding it upwards. Like the lovesick, weak man he was for Call, he obeyed. Aaron saw that he was crying too, letting the tears spill down his face. “I know. I’m being a selfish fucking asshole, who’s begging you to do something you shouldn’t. But, Aaron, _you need to put the dog down_. There’s no fixing this. There’s no fixing us. There’s no- no happy ending, where we get to do what we should. That train’s gone. Now- now, you just need to take the one where I die on my own terms, a man with some semblance of dignity, some lie of a choice.”  
  
Aaron was full-on sobbing now, clinging to Call’s arms for support. The worst thing was that he understood. There was no other way- the mages would never leave Call alone, would never have from the second that they knew, and Joseph wouldn’t either. It was a life on the run, a death at the hands of former friends, or- or a death that he chose.  
  
He inhaled, gathering all the strength that he had. “I’m not gonna let you die alone, you know.”  
  
Through his tear-blurred vision, he could see Call’s weak, joyless smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”  
  
-  
  
When he got back, Tamara knew better than to ask. She had no idea where she had been or why he had been crying, but Aaron suspected she wouldn’t have cared if she did.  
  
“Are we planning the next attack yet?” he asked her, wiping futilely at his eyes.  
  
“War council starts in three hours,” she told him, pretending that she hadn’t seen. “Take a nap. It’s going to be a long one.”  
  
Tamara was reliable. She was strong. She was undeniably a good woman.  
  
Aaron had wished he could have fallen in love with her instead of Call sometimes, back when Call had been newly labelled as the Enemy of Death. Now, he regretted it. He could never have loved Tamara the crazy, stupid, wonderful, horrible way he loved Call, and not just because he was gay.  
  
-  
  
On the battlefield, Aaron didn’t act in any way out of the ordinary. He was the Makar, the leader, the one who brought them all courage.  
  
He didn’t act differently when the Enemy of Death, mask eschewed for some reason, came swooping down.  
  
He didn’t act differently when he managed to get close enough to put out Semiramis, won in a previous fight.  
  
He didn’t act differently when he stabbed the Enemy directly in the heart.  
  
He didn’t cry when Callum whispered, just for his ears, “Thank you, for putting the dog down, for not letting me die alone”. He didn't.  
  
Aaron, Call’s Aaron, wasn’t there. This was just the Makar, the Saviour, killing the Enemy of Death, as had been foretold.  
  
Nothing personal about it.  
  
-  
  
Callum Hunt, Constantine Madden, Enemy of Death, Lover of Aaron, is buried by Aaron’s mother. No one goes to his burial but Aaron- no one knows about his burial but Aaron. He told the Assembly that it would be fitting if he disposed of the corpse, and they had tripped over themselves like fools to let him. They had no idea that he hadn’t incinerated it somewhere in the woods and scattered the ashes impersonally with a summoned gust of wind.  
  
His mother’s grave was small, just like Call’s. Two souls, largely unloved. Two people who had loved Aaron. Despite that, it still felt like a betrayal to not bury Call next to Sarah and Alastair- the family, separated in life, together in death.  
  
At least Aaron knew he wasn’t going to be buried in some hero’s cemetery. He had arranged for his plot to be next to Call’s.  
  
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. What he was about to do would be hard. Aaron’s grip on Semiramis was killing the circulation in his fingers, but he knew he could do it. He took a moment to revel in the tragedy of this whole situation- the star-crossed lovers, who die at the end. The blade he’d used to kill Call, now became the blade he’d use to kill himself.  
  
Call had been so sure, so determined to end the suffering. To put down the dog, as he’d said. But Aaron was sure too. He was part of the dog, just as much as Call was. And besides, he wasn’t about to let Call, of all people, die alone.  
  
With that thought, he plunged the knife into his heart, and embraced the pain.  
  
-  
  
_Dear Master Rufus/Tamara, whichever one of you reads this first,_  
  
_I’m not sorry for doing this. Historically, I’m generally not very sorry when doing things in Call’s name._  
  
_The one thing I am sorry for is that I couldn’t fix this all. The hero is supposed to defeat the villain and live happily ever after- but there wasn’t a villain here, except maybe Master Joseph and the sheer fucking pressure placed on Constantine, Verrity, Call, and I. Just because kids are special doesn’t mean they’re not kids._  
  
_I felt like poison might have been more appropriate, considering that this is a lover’s suicide and not a Roman one, but there’s something more right about killing myself the same way Call died. “O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die”, I guess._  
  
_Remember that I loved him, won’t you? Remember him as Call, and not Callum Hunt. Someone has to._  
  
_\- Aaron_

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr is [nonbinary-androids](https://nonbinary-androids.tumblr.com/), if you want to come party/cry with me/yell at me for writing this.


End file.
